


give and take

by kurooos



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, LED removal, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 12:18:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16137098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurooos/pseuds/kurooos
Summary: It’s three years after the Android Revolution. Connor makes a few decisions with Hank.





	give and take

**Author's Note:**

> Cute little thing I wanted to write after being given the prompt of Connor in snuggly casual pjs.

After three years, you pick up habits, good and bad. Things get kicked up like silt at the bottom of the seafloor but it never stays there; it always settles.

Things get placed on table tops and don’t move, post-it notes stay on the corners of computers and mirrors, sweaters and hoodies get slung over the back of the couch, keys tossed on the end table and soon the decorative bowl that shows up there.

That’s another thing that happens. Objects and clothes start showing up.

A problem arises, and issue Hank is used to and has grown comfortable living around, and a silent little fix is made. His closet goes from being for one to being for two. His clothes get pushed to the right.

The sock drawer gets cramped, Hank’s comfortable pjs get stolen, an extra pillow ends up on the bed.

Connor gets the edge and Hank gets the side by the wall. Connor likes being closest to the door, likes being between Hank and any slight chance of danger.

But now, at this moment, it’s Hank between Connor and the door. Connor’s relaxed, eyes fixed on Sumo in his lap, fingers brushing out his fur.

His LED is a solid yellow and hasn’t changed since they came in here. Hank holds a flathead screwdriver in his hand.

Connor’s eyes flit up to Hank’s and he smiles gently. He looks like a dork with that stupid old meme hoodie on; it’s got a bunch of badly photoshopped cats on it floating around in space with equally bad photoshopped pizza slices.

It’s _horrendous_ but his sister got it for him so he kept a hold of it.

“Should I get you some socks?” Connor asks cryptically, and when Hank stays quiet, he says, “I just don’t want you to get cold feet.”

Hank makes a loud groan and scoots closer, legs knocking into Sumo as he presses into Connor’s side. He takes Connor by the chin, pulls him into a kiss and says, “I‘m not.”

They’ve talked about this for a while. Almost a whole year. It’s been three years since the android revolution and society has taken leaps and bounds at becoming more accepting.

Most androids are indistinguishable from the humans they pass on the streets now after a mass drive to remove android LEDs swept Detroit. But there were always the choice few that didn’t need to, didn’t want to, didn’t feel that it was important enough.

Connor didn’t care. He wasn’t ashamed of being an android. He also didn’t feel any discomfort in being unable to pass as a human because of it.

The people that mattered in his life didn’t make such a distinction. The most important people didn’t care what he was, human or android.

Hank brought it up in passing one day, leaving the decision up to Connor ultimately. The android simply shrugged and continued with his task.

And now here he was ready to let Hank have the honors. He couldn’t imagine anyone better to do such a thing.

Connor turned his head, baring the little metal ring of color before finding the wall to look at.

Hank breathes out shaky and steadies his hand before notching the flat head of the tool under the edge of the ring. It flickers for a moment and Connor blinks.

There isn’t much fanfare to it. No fancy words or touches, Hank simply digs it in, tips his wrist, applies pressure, and the LED pops off with a quick red flash.

Connor’s eyebrows draw together quickly, blinking again as Hank watches the skin around the LED fade off to white plastic and then rush back in like the tide.

Hank holds the LED in his palm, now colorless. A lifeless grey.

Connor clears his throat quietly, a noise made purely to catch attention because Connor doesn’t _need_ to clear his throat. Hank looks up and then stops. Everything stops.

Connor’s holding a silver band in his fingers. It’s thick and almost matte in the light.

“A ring for you and a ring for me,” he says gently, looking nervous as he takes the detached LED from Hank’s palm.

Hank can’t help it. He cries. The tears take control and run free without his say so. Leave it to Connor to turn something that was about to be for him onto Hank.

The hurried kiss is answer enough.

 _Yes_.


End file.
